Perennials for Old Ancestors

Many, many years ago, (mmm, maybe, oh heavens, maybe 20) my aunt Betty and I planted daisies at the grave of Martha Holmes Romick Schertzer, one of my ancestors on her side of the family. I am not sure if those daisies are there any longer, (deer would be my guess) but I still love the idea of perennials for old, out of the way stones from long ago ancestors. I have been talking about doing it again for some time. Since I'm here in Ohio for my Mom's birthday, I cajoled my sister into digging up some perennials from her backyard to take over to Mitchell cemetery, one of the oldest in the county. On, may I add, the afternoon on one of the hottest days. Many of my mother's early ancestors (Browns and Patches) are buried there.

There were Black-eyed Susans for Susannah Brown (1834-1895). Heh. Appropriate, no?

And Coneflowers for her husband, Isaiah (1829-1896)

Our more distant ancestors are buried in the old section of the cemetery.

Rosanna Maus Brown, (1747-1832) the wife of Adam Brown, was the matriarch of the clan. In about 1831 or so, (at age 84) she made the rugged cross-country wagon trip with her youngest son Christopher and his family.

Her eldest son Windle (1768-1850) and his wife, Amelia Wilson (1773-1853) followed in 1834. Sometimes the choice of flowers was about the size of the plant rather then about any significance. Windle's stone is short while Amelia's is tall.

I cannot even imagine when flowers might have been planted for them last.

Remembered at Last

The request came in through Find a Grave. Someone wanted a picture of Dorcus Ackerson's gravestone. Having just seen Garrett Ackerson's stone, I knew exactly where it should be. I drove past the new section and wound my way through the shady meandering paths until I pulled up beside a cluster of ancient stones isolated from their newer sleepmates.

On the right side of Garrett was a red stone from the same period (he died in 1811) but the epitaph was eroded and flaked away. Poor Dorcus slated to anonymity through weather and an irregularity in the stone itself. I gazed at the defaced stone for long minutes weighing the options. No matter the condition, I would want to see the stone of one of my ancestors. I took the picture.

Now, every time I fulfill a request from this cemetery, I visit Dorcus. Today I visited her with the express purpose of planting a handsome but prolific penstemon from my front garden.

Although she is hidden behind the marred stone, today she sports a perennial that will bloom and bear babies like she did.

Dorcus Springsteen Ackerson

Birth and death dates unknown

Married to Capt. Garrett Ackerson

Had a daughter Martha Ackerson Lequier in 1765

Flowers in the long light

I love taking pictures of just about anything in the long light of a perfect summer evening. On a walk around around the flower beds in the front of the house, I was entranced by the light.



Towering Yucca blossoms

Variegated Phlox that has reverted back to its wilder self.

Flaming self-sown Butterfly Weed

Mahogany Lilies glowing in the sun.

Ah, summer.

Come take a Walk with Me

It has been raining on and off (mostly on) for 2 weeks. Today the sun is peeking out, so I dashed out to get some weeding done since it is going to rain again for the next 3 days at least. sigh. C'mon. Let's take a walk around the house to see what we can find.

You know I live on a mountain in the woods, right. This is a photo of the back yard, looking up the mountain. All of the tall shrubby stuff at the top of the yard, is native Mountain Laurel.

And the short shrubby stuff is low bush Blueberry. These are the tiny native variety. Alas, native things eat them too, I have never seen any ripe.


Listen, can you hear the lilting song of the House Wren, the chatter of the Robins and the burr of the Chipping Sparrow? Sounds like everyone is happy to see the sun. This year a pair of Wrens have take residence in the Wren House that Uncle Mel built. They flit around too much for me to get a photo of them, but I'll keep trying.

When I was stalking the Wren, a flash of orange caught my eye. I don't know what they are, but they look kinda of snacky to me.

Let's check the fern bed since we are up here. Japanese Painted Ferns are one of my favorites. I'll do a post on all of the ferns later. I started collecting them since the deer won't touch them.

And speaking of collecting and the deer not eating; I also LOVE Allium. But it's in the front of the house out by the street. Let me show you.

There are lots and lots of flower beds at my house, I promise I won't make you look at them all or at least save some for another time. One last shot of a perennial Foxglove. Hardy to zone 4 and the deer won't touch it. Digitalis, don't ya know.

What's happening in your yard?

Signs of Spring

What is the first sign of Spring for you? The first Robins? The faint pink blush on the trees? The thermometer inching past 60? The chorus of Spring Peepers in the wetland? Now that the signs of Spring are all around us, even up here on the mountain; I asked a friend what were his first signs of Spring. He said the golden waves of Forsythia along the highways. Now, I love Forsythia as much as the next girl, and they do bloom early, and I have lots at my house; but they are not native. I guess I was hoping for something wilder.

The first (non-crocus) flower of the Spring for me is the Coltsfoot. It is at the other end of the Aster family since most Asters bloom in fall. It can start blooming as early as February along roadsides and waste places.

Imagine my surprise when I learned that it is not native either. It was introduced from Europe. Bummer. What a bubble burster.

So I am back to the tried and true childhood favorite.

Happy First Day of Spring

We made it! Spring had officially sprung.

Wordless Wednesday

Signs of Autumn

I am in denial.

Flat out denial.

Even though the grocery store has started to stock mums (3 for $10.) and there are some spots of orange and red where the sun has kissed the trees and the furnace kicked on last night because it got down into upper 30s (and the windows were wide open) and it is getting darker much, much earlier; I am turning a deaf ear---but not a blind eye. For how can I. Fall for me is when the trees themselves turn into flowers. I am feeling abandoned by summer; not yet ready to move on, but Fall is beckoning.

Are you ready?

Nature walk on the first day of summer

I walked down a path strewn with wildflowers.
Warblers, vireos, and cuckoos were singing and carrying caterpillars to feed their insatiable young.
An Eastern Kingbird peeked out barely visible as she sat on her nest.
A fuzzy baby Baltimore Oriole shrieked until a harried father popped a juicy black tidbit in its mouth.


Stopping to watch a Dung Beetle roll his heavy load,
I noticed hundreds of minuscule brown toads the size of my pinkie nail hopping frantically out of the way of lumbering feet.
A small Northern Ring-neck Snake darted off the path into the grass and a large black rat snake lay curled in a tree like an inner tube tossed for spite.


Dragonflies darted like glittering jewels of blue and green.
I would need to bring a backpack full of field guides to identify the abundance of nature that surrounds us.
Happy first day of summer.

Container vegetable gardening

"Did you put plants in the dog pen?" The neighbor scratched his head. "Huh!"

In addition to all the flower beds, I have been doing container gardening for years. Some of my 16 pots are beautiful handmade Italian terracotta ones, but others are resin and yes, some are the plastic fake terracotta look-a-likes. Every fall I laboriously lug them into the garage to bring out again in May. On a perfect spring day, you can find me in the beds fussing at the weeds and separating perennials or at the various nurseries happily puttering among the rows of pastel annuals and bright perennials, browsing shrubs and stroking ornamental grasses. But this year my pocketbook decided to forego flowers and embrace vegetables. Yes, vegetables.

In the past, vegetable gardening has proved to be a challenge because of the deer and the groundhogs not to mention rocky soil and too many trees. Or rather not enough sun. But last fall some folks from the flatland came up and we took down many trees and hard-pruned the lilacs. This opened up the beds and - the dog pen - to more sun. Attached to my house is an unused dog pen. I have no dog. I considered tearing it down many times, but have never gotten around to it. Now the fence will keep the critters at bay, the stones will provide good drainage and I will have a kitchen garden. Hopefully.

I filled my pots with fresh container dirt (the kind that is lighter and has the water crystals in it.) And after giving some thought to my cooking habits (eclectic at best) and talking with a master gardener (my sister) I decided on tomatoes, peppers, lettuce, eggplant, beans, onions, lemon grass, squash, and a catnip plant for the kitties. My oregano and thyme come back every year and I have parsley volunteers that are taking over the gold mop cypress in the front of the house.

Now all I need is some heat and sun. Hopefully this time next month, I will be eating fresh mescun salad. Oh boy, Ratatouille here I come.

The Scent of a Lilac

Lean close. Can you smell it? Oops. Careful. There's a bee.

Try this one.


Is there anything sweeter than the smell of a lilac?

New Jersey State Botanical Gardens in Ringwood, NJ has a collection of 200 lilacs planted in the 1920s. They have spent years carefully pruning them so that they are at the right height to allow not only for viewing but more importantly (at least for me) smelling pleasure. The plants start to bloom in late April and peak around Mother’s Day.


We wandered among the heavily scented beds. The sun-warmed blossoms wafted their perfume into the air while we gently lift the heavy panicles to breathe deeply. I overheard conversations about the beauty of these flowers, the exquisite color of those and above all the comparisons of the various scents. Some were sweet, some spicy, others delicate, or woodsy. Families moved from bush to bush to sniff and examine the different shades of color. The flowers were white, violet, blue, lilac, pink, purple and a startling magenta.



I encourage you to go sometime this week to the gardens while the lilacs are at their peak. (They are down by Parking lot B.) It is lovely anytime of the year, but this week is my favorite.

Daffodil Days

Daffodils are one of my favorite flowers. I planted thousands of them when I first moved to the mountain and now that are multiplying into fantastic stands. Bonus: the deer won't eat them!

Wordless Wednesday

"Look, what I brought you!" A gift of summer from the girl across the street.

Daffodils

Tete a Tete

Pink Charm

Cassatta

Ice King




And most of them are not blooming yet!

It's Starting

The early season daffs have started to open. Remember there are 2,000. I will be enjoying and sharing them for weeks.

Spring must be on the way.

I adore daffodils because the deer won't eat them and they are cheerful after a gray season. Up here on the mountain, we have a SERIOUS problem with the deer eating everything. Over the years, I have stopped planting anything that they might find toothsome. And daffodils they will not eat. Well... every spring they seem to forget how nasty daffodils are and there are a few nibbles. But they don't even swallow, but spit out the mouthful of greens.

Right after I moved in, I went crazy and planted early, middle and late season varieties. There are yellow ones, and pink ones, and white ones. There are tiny ones and the huge King Alfreds. There are split coronas and classic narcissus. With 2000 bulbs of various kinds in the ground, I eagerly await daffodil weekend. Hang in there, you'll see.

Ruminations on garden catalogs

I am sick to death of winter. I was lulled into not hating winter by the relatively balmy December and January. But then came February with its arctic blasts. So, on this March 1st, I am ready for green growing things.

I, like you, receive upteen garden catalogs starting around Christmas. This year, I decided that I was not going to even look at them becasue all of the beds need to be reworked. It's the need versus want thing. So I made a critical error in judgement and recycled all of my garden catalogs. Not a Burpee in the house.

Well, I now find that even without ordering from them, I need them as reminders of the promise of Spring. I need to revel in the purples, yellows, oranges and reds on cold nights as the wind howls around the house. I need to dream of new yellow lilacs and white forsythia. I need to discuss plant varieties with my family.

While I am a flower grower and my sister is a vegetable grower, because we get the same catalogs, we can flip back and forth between them as we discuss the merits of zone 5 versus zone 4 gardening, sun versus shade and the latest techniques for keeping critters out. She kept her catalogs and is busily ordering her seeds with a long vision into the harvest. She will have pointy green caulifower, white tomatoes, yellow carrots and purple potatoes. And, of course, she always grows Bloody Butcher. She has an amazing green thumb and the patience to start all of her plants from seed. Patience is not my virtue. I go to the local nursery or order from catalogs....and await the box of veggies that will be coming to my house from the flatland.